Lori Payne/Christ Follower/Wife/Mom/Recovering Alcoholic

I was in my 4th Treatment Center, Buffalo Valley in Lewisburg, TN. Buffalo Valley had two houses where the patients were housed. The first was where the staff had offices, and patient rooms were upstairs. The second house was two doors down and housed only patients. Because of my history with relapse, it would have been smart of me to request the main house close to staff. However being a chronic alcoholic, and in the mental state that I was, I would have never made such a request. Across from the houses were a Super Rama Grocery Store, and a Dollar Store. I made it about two weeks into treatment, and the Super Rama started calling my name. We were warned from day one if we left the property, we would be asked to leave treatment. Throwing all reason to the wind, I bolted across the street with a backpack, straight into the Super Rama and over to the beer isle. Once inside I really don’t remember seeing anyone. No store clerk, no other shoppers, all I saw was my next drink. I know it was only beer, but when you are an alcoholic in the middle of the madness, beer is just fine. We weren’t allowed to have money at the center, so I loaded up my backpack. I was just about to exit the front door when I hear, “Excuse me miss?” No response from me so she says it again. In the excitement I somehow trip on one of those big red Rug Doctor machines. I struggle with the dumb thing for what seems like forever, then finally break through and scramble out the door. I take off in a run, the opposite direction of the treatment center. Then I glance behind me and there she is. The Super Rama clerk is making tracks right behind me. Oh no, what is she going for clerk of the month? It’s only beer, just let me go. I knew I was sunk because she was built like a runner, and at that time I was built like Bud Light. I had to think fast so I swing my backpack around front and start throwing the beers over my shoulder, meanwhile still trying to keep pace. I can’t believe I’m still in front of her, and then it’s over. I hear sirens coming from somewhere but I don’t see anything. This point I have crossed a field and headed across a street. Halfway across the street, the police car appears seemingly out of nowhere. I run smack in front of it, and the officer slams on the brakes. The policeman gets out of his car and the clerk runs up out of breath. She tells him that I have stolen beer from the store. I show him my empty backpack and tell him she is crazy. There’s definitely a crazy person in his presence, but unfortunately for me, it is not the clerk. After a short look through the field, the officer returns with the evidence. I am handcuffed a half block away from Buffalo Valley and taken to jail. I was charged with theft of the beer, and for throwing them over my shoulder, attempted assault on the clerk. Whatever the charges, I’m sure I deserved them and more. I wish I could say things ended there and I was able to get sober, but I just kept adding to the story.